Honesty
by Wendy Blue
Summary: Though it wasn’t the manliest thing to admit, she had saved him that night. Pam tends to Jim after his runin with Roy. PostCocktails.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Someone needs to find a cure for writer's block because I've had the worst case of it! So here is what has come out after a serious drought of creativity. You have no idea what this one-shot means to me. But it doesn't want to do that; it wants to be more than that. So if you like it, give it the right encouragement by way of reviews and perhaps it can be turned into something bigger. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any companies specializing in frozen food. Or these characters for that matter.**

"Does it hurt?"

Jim shook his head. "Nah, only when I eat, or talk…or breathe…" he laughed before wincing in pain and gingerly rubbing his jaw.

Pam rushed to her kitchen and rummaged through her freezer.

"What the hell? How am I out of ice?" she yelled in frustration.

"Pam, it's okay, you don't have to—" he bit back a laugh as she reappeared from the kitchen holding a Stouffer's frozen meatloaf box in one hand and a box of Eggo's in the other.

"Okay Halpert, meat or waffles?" She waved the boxes near her head, her face trying to remain bright amongst the worry in her eyes.

"I'll take the Eggo's, thanks," he said as he gave the best smile he could given his swollen jaw.

She pulled the plastic wrapped waffles from the box and lightly pressed them to Jim's jaw. He winced again but gave a small sigh of relief as the cold began to ease the pain.

"Does that help?" Jim looked up to see Pam in close proximity, her eyes searching his face for any more injuries to tend to.

"Yeah, it does." Though it wasn't the manliest thing to admit, she had saved him that night. Roy had confronted him in the parking lot after work and swung at him before he had even said a word. Had it not been for Pam stepping in front of them, the fight would have progressed, and Jim might have been in even worse shape than he was at the moment.

"I know you told me to stop apologizing, but still I am so so sorry."

"It's okay. This was not your fault," Jim placed his hand on top of hers, which was still holding the waffles to his chin. The physical contact made her eyes jump from the floor to his and they sat there for a minute till Pam finally broke the silence.

"Are you hungry? I don't have much, but I could whip something up really quick."

Jim paused a moment.

"Mac and cheese?" he asked meekly.

"Do you seriously not trust me enough to make something more complex? I'm not that bad of a cook," she said defiantly.

"Need I remind you of the Great Tiramisu Disaster of '05? I've never seen someone so liberal with rum…"

"Alright, alright, you've made your point. Mac and cheese it is," she shook her head and gave him a wink.

Jim watched her shuffle around the kitchen, opening cupboards and pulling out the few ingredients needed to make his meal. The domestic look suited her, and this was an image he had often played in his mind in hopes that the future might someday bring it.

She looked over her shoulder from the stove and caught his eye. He blushed and cleared his throat, turning his attention to the painting on the wall.

"Nice painting."

"Jim Halpert, are you blushing?" Pam feigned shock and Jim felt his cheeks redden even more.

"Men don't blush," he said defensively.

"The red in your cheeks says differently."

"Come on Beesly, I'm in enough pain as it is."

Pam giggled and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Jim allowed himself to look at her once more until curiosity finally got the better of him.

"Why?"

Pam turned around to look at him. "Why what?"

"Why—why did you tell him what happened?"

The question made her turn back to the stove, letting out a heavy sigh as she did.

"I really thought we could make it work. But in order to do that, I thought I should be honest. For once in our relationship, just be truly honest. And I knew he wasn't going to take it well, but I never imagined—" she shivered at the memory of shattered glass.

"And you have to believe me," she continued. "If I thought he was going to hurt you in any way, I never would have said anything."

"Don't worry about it. I mean it's just me." Jim shrugged in a defeated way.

Pam stopped stirring and whirled around, facing him with a stern look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that things are different now. A lot has happened and I don't expect you to look out for me."

His tone made Pam let out a gasp of incredulity. "Don't act like you don't mean anything to me."

"Do I?" he challenged. They stared at each other for a while, each daring the other to continue when they were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

Pam moved to the door and when she opened it, Karen stormed in, brushing past Pam without even a hello.

"Oh my god, Michael called me and told me what happened. Are you okay?" Karen knelt by Jim's side and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You didn't have to leave your sister's," Jim said, eyeing Pam over Karen's shoulder.

"Please, like I was going to leave you alone. You're not as tough as you think you—what is this?" Karen took the bag of waffles from Jim's hand and looked back at Pam.

"I'm out of ice," Pam mumbled awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders and attempting a smile.

Karen forced one back before turning back to Jim. "Ready to go?"

"Oh, umm, see, here's the thing…" Jim stammered.

"He was hungry—"

"Mac and cheese—"

"Nothing fancy—"

"But still thoughtful." Pam and Jim stammered back and forth, Karen standing between them with arms folded. Pam smiled inwardly as she thought that this brought a whole new meaning to the term "Pam Pong".

"Pam, I hope you don't mind, but it's probably best that we just head home." Karen's tone was sickeningly polite and Pam had to bite her lip to keep from retorting back.

"Oh, right, of course…" she nodded and forced a smile.

"No, wait, she went to all that trouble," Jim interjected, looking utterly torn.

"Really, it's fine. More for me," Pam joked, though her voice was soft and disheartened.

Karen grabbed Jim's coat off the couch and moved to the door.

"See you tomorrow," she called over her shoulder as Jim followed behind her, looking pitifully at Pam. He mouthed, "I'm sorry" before walking out.

Pam closed the door behind them, leaning up against it and holding back tears. She was tired of that feeling; the feeling of suffocation every time she watched him walk out a door with her. And the one time honesty could have resulted in something other than a trashed bar, she held back and let opportunity slip once more by. Opportunities to be honest with Jim were few and far between these days, and Pam began to suspect that there would come a day when they would cease completely. She would be forced to suffer in silence while she watched him move on arm in arm with Karen.

She scooped the slightly burnt macaroni and cheese into a bowl, and not long after she sat down at her dining room table, buried her face in her hands and began to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: See what reviews do to me? A new chapter in less than 24 hours. You guys rock, thank you so much for all your kind words and support. I hope this chapter lives up to expectations, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nuttin'.**

The next day at work was nothing short of painful. Jim had barely managed to smile at Pam as he walked past her desk in the morning, and Karen didn't even try to feign friendliness. All Pam concentrated on was answering phones, sending faxes and beating her time in Sudoku in hopes that the clock would magically read 5:00 and she could retreat back home.

However, Michael had other plans for the day.

"Attention everyone," he said sauntering from his office. "Corporate has informed me that in order to promote a better work environment, we are initiating a new communication seminar today."

Groans rose from the employees, knowing that another workday would be going to waste.

"I communicate just fine, thank you," Stanley grumbled.

"Is this for better communication with clients? Because I was thinking rather than phones we bring back carrier pigeons—" Dwight spoke up, his face brimming with eager mischief.

"No, Dwight, that's just…dumb. This is for better communication with each other. Because the key to any good relationship is communication. Am I right, Jim?"

Jim felt all eyes turn to him and he shifted in his seat. "Umm, yeah sure, I guess."

"All right, see, that right there. Jim was not expressing himself as well as he could have. He mumbled and stammered…and I think he's sweating. Are you okay buddy? Dehydrated? Ryan, go get Jim a water."

Ryan looked from Michael to Jim, his eyes warning him not to endorse Michael's request.

Jim held up a hand and shook his head. "Really, I'm okay."

"Not to worry, by the end of the day, Jim and the rest of you will have honed your communication skills and be much more expressionly." With that, Michael returned to his desk, leaving the office to murmur with suspicions about what the new seminar will bring.

Pam could hear Angela and Kevin muttering from behind the wall separating them.

"Why do you think Michael picked on Jim?" Kevin asked, curiosity seeping from his monotone voice.

"It doesn't matter, Kevin," Angela scolded. "However, it is obvious that it had something to do with that wretched threesome he's so comfortable in."

Pam's jaw dropped at the word "threesome" and looked around for anyone who might have overheard the remark. Luckily, everyone appeared absorbed in work, including the other two parts of the alleged threesome. Pam glanced at the clock, which read 9:32 am; only the beginning of what was sure to be a very long day.

It was 1:00 when Michael ushered the reluctant group into the conference room. Pam took a chair in the back in hopes of becoming invisible for the presentation. But as she watched Karen and Jim walk in and take two seats together in the middle, her heart sank knowing that this was the view she would have for the entire seminar and the only thing that would hold her attention.

"Okay, thank you all for coming. Now this first exercise is all about…." Michael read from the binder Pam assumed corporate had sent. " 'I language?' Whatever that means…oh right, okay, I need two volunteers."

No one was raising their hand and Pam saw the same look on Michael's face she had seen at the Dundies, helpless and bordering on embarrassed. Out of sympathy, she shot her hand up at the same time a much tanner and more manicured hand did.

"Whoa-ho! Cat fight! Pam, Karen, thank you for volunteering. Now all we need is some Jell-O and we've got ourselves a real workshop," Michael elbowed Kevin playfully in the side as he took an empty chair in the front row. Making her way to the front of the room, Pam was reminded of the time she competed in her 6th grade math tournament. She had to go to the blackboard and do geometry, which normally she excelled in, but froze when she felt thirty pairs of eyes staring at her. Suddenly the isosceles triangle looked foreign and impossible, and right there in front of Ms. Shelley and her peers, she had her first panic attack. Now here she was, a grown woman and had that same feeling of helplessness as she came face to face with a fierce-looking Karen. The isosceles triangle didn't sound too bad at that moment.

"Alright ladies, now I want you to think of a conflict you've had in the past…can't imagine what that would be," Michael snickered and Pam saw Jim sink lower into his chair.

"I've never had a problem with Pam," Karen said tersely, arms folded and her heel tapping gently at the carpet.

"Okay then, I'll give you a scenario. Let's say that there's a…cup. Yes, a cup in the break room that Pam always used. Until one day, Karen came in and started using the cup without Pam's permission. Now, I want you two to talk out the problem without using 'You', only 'I.' Okay? Go!"

Michael's less than subtle cup analogy had no one fooled, and Pam was sure that she had turned the deepest shade of red possible. She looked to Jim for some sign of sympathy, but he had his eyes locked on the floor.

Karen cleared her throat and took a deep breath, signaling she was about to begin and Pam tore her focus away from Jim.

"Pam," she began slowly. "I don't see why I need your permission to use the…cup." Karen hit the last word hard, making Pam slightly flinch.

"Umm, well, I understand that, and of course you don't need my permission—"

"Uh-uh, no 'yous' remember?" Michael interrupted, looking thoroughly engrossed in the scene.

"Okay, of course I don't need to give you permission. It's just that I am really fond of the cup." Pam rolled her eyes at how ridiculous the two of them sounded, and once more peeked to see if the "cup" in question was watching the madness unfold. Sure enough, Jim was sitting a bit more upright, his head cupped by one of his hands and his eyes wide in astonishment.

"Well, I saw the cup wasn't being used and figured it was free. I had no idea that it belonged to someone else." Karen's words were growing increasingly more accusatory.

"It never…I never owned the cup. I just found it when I first started working here and just sort of became attached—"

"So no one else is allowed to use it just because you saw it first—"

"I never said that!"

"And now that I'm using the cup, all of a sudden you want it back."

"Guys, this is not 'I' language—" Michael interjected meekly.

"I never stopped wanting the cup!"

"Enough!" All eyes turned to Jim, who was now standing and looking angrier than Pam had ever seen.

"Michael, this has gotten out of hand. You need to stop this now."

"Why can't anyone understand this concept? Use 'I' Jim! 'I!'"

Jim rubbed his lips together, letting out a sharp breath through his nose. "Okay, _I_ motion that we end this seminar immediately. All in favor, say 'I.'"

A collective "I" echoed through the room, and everyone stood up and exited quickly, avoiding eye contact with Pam and Karen who remained at the front. Soon it was just the two of them plus Jim, looking at one another expectantly, and waiting for someone to make the first move. Finally Jim moved toward the door.

"Jim, wait," the two women pleaded, making him stop at the doorway. He turned to face them but merely shook his head.

"Not now." And with that he left, moving directly to his desk and returning to work, leaving a defeated Pam and Karen alone in the conference room, more confused now than they had ever been.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Seriously can't thank you guys enough for the tremendous support this story has received. This is a bit of a short chapter, but longer ones will be coming your way. Remember, reviews make me a happy camper. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: None of this is mine, sadly.**

Jim was on his fourth game of Madden and sixth beer when Karen let herself into his apartment. He didn't look up but heard the way her keys slammed on to his coffee table and knew she wasn't happy. Wasn't happy with the seminar, wasn't happy that he stormed out of the conference room, and really wasn't happy that he took the rest of the day off. But Jim knew that had he stayed the rest of the day, work would have gone undone anyway. He was too distracted by the fight over him that had occurred in front of the entire office, him being represented as a "cup" no less.

"Glad to see you're expressing your anger in a healthy way. Andy would be proud," Karen said from the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing what Jim presumed to be a beer. She always took one of his beers after work, and he usually found it endearing. Today it was just one more reminder of what they had become, a routine like laundry on Sundays.

"I'll have you know Madden comes highly recommended. Four out of five therapists agree," Jim quipped back, reaching for his beer when Karen snuck up behind him and took it away.

"I was drinking that."

"And now you're not," she said bitterly, her voice accompanied with the sound of the beer being poured down the drain.

He tossed the controller aside and stood up to face her. "What exactly are you angry about?"

She leaned against the kitchen counter and took a swig of her beer. "You know, there are so many things, I'm not sure where to begin."

"Karen—"

"Do you have any idea how humiliating today was? I had to stand up there with your former…whatever the hell she is and fight over a cup. A cup, Jim, which was supposed to be you. And when it was all over, you ran out, and left me there. I was getting pity looks all day and practically had to beat Michael off with a stick to get him to stop hugging me."

Jim wanted to laugh at the mental image of Michael clinging to Karen, but one look at her told him it would be far from appropriate.

"And you think I wasn't embarrassed? Being compared to dishware? Watching you attack her—" The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He looked at Karen, waiting for the blow to come.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"I didn't mean it. She was attacking you just as much, I'm sorry." He tried to sound convincing, but if he didn't even believe himself, he knew there was no chance he had convinced her.

"Jim," she said softly, her tone much more gentle. "I don't have to remind you what I've done to prove to you that I'm really in this for the long run. But I'm finished trying to get you to prove to me that you're in it too. Just please, be honest."

He studied her face, looking at the small cracks of vulnerability that appeared around her eyes. The last time he was honest, it had led to five straight nights of incessant talking that had led only to a resolution to "make things work," the details of how exactly to make it work to hopefully come later. He wasn't sure he was ready for honesty again, because his detailed account of how he was without a doubt still in love with Pam, with no end in sight, would certainly lead to at least five months of talking. And he just didn't have the energy.

"I think it'd be better if we talked later." It was pathetic, Jim knew, and it killed him to see her eyes begin to well up in response.

"Later, when I don't have six beers doing the talking for me," he offered gently, moving towards her to stroke his thumb under her chin.

Karen nodded before pulling his head down and fervently kissing him in a way that nearly knocked Jim over. He felt her linger there, as though she wasn't sure she would ever have the opportunity to kiss him like this again. So he indulged in the unexpected moment before slowly pulling away.

As soon as she left, Jim became restless, wandering around the apartment with no real purpose other than to ignore the urge within him to go see her. He kept playing the seminar over in his head, her last statement in particular before he had put a stop to the whole thing. _I never stopped wanting the cup._ Jim let out a deep sigh, glancing at his car keys taunting him on the kitchen table. He took them delicately in his hands, tossing them up to the ceiling and catching them again, contemplating what to do with each throw. And as the keys came crashing down once more into his hands, he grasped them tightly, struck with the realization that there was really only one thing to do.

xxx

Pam settled on her couch with her "hard day at work" essentials: pajamas, a glass of wine and the remote. She flipped through the channels, landing on Antiques Roadshow. It was peaceful and didn't require too much thought; exactly what she needed to get her mind off of the madness that had occurred earlier that day.

She didn't exactly expect him to jump to her rescue; that had never been his job in the first place. Still, Pam couldn't help feeling a small ache of hurt that he hadn't defended her in the midst of the cup fiasco. Though if the roles were reversed, and it had been Jim up there faced with Roy, she wasn't sure even Fancy New Beesly would have stepped in.

The last thing Pam needed was company, which is why when her doorbell rang she half considered ignoring it. But visitors were rare, and her curiosity pried her off the couch to satisfy it. She opened the door to reveal Jim, leaning his hand against her doorframe.

"Never stopped wanting the cup, huh?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I fought with this chapter. A lot. To the point where I was just going to wave the white flag and surrender. But I'm not a quitter! Thank you guys for being so patient and I hope this chapter still lives up to the praise you've been giving previous chapters. As always, feedback is extremely appreciated. I'm thinking maybe one more chapter, or if you guys feel this is a good place to end it, well that's okay too. Just let me know! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own a thing.**

"Please don't make me relive that."

"Why not? It'll improve our communication skills, don'tcha think?" Jim drew out his words slowly, enunciating every syllable. As he swayed a little at her doorway, Pam finally understood.

"You're drunk."

"No," Jim shook his head vigorously, moving into the apartment and tumbling into Pam's arms.

"Jim, you smell like beer."

"You smell like flowers."

Pam pried him off of her and gripped his shoulders tightly, wanting to get a look at him in better light. He wasn't completely trashed, but not quite in a sober state of mind either. His eyes were glazed over and his smile was more lopsided than usual. Pam shook her head at the sight of him, chastising herself for still finding him charming even in his inebriated state.

She led him to her couch, easing him gently on to the cushions.

"Lie down," she instructed, making her way to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

"So bossy," she heard him murmur from the couch, his face buried into one of the arm rests.

She set the coffee pot to brew and returned to the couch, finding him lying on his back with an arm over his head, staring at her ceiling.

"Hard day?" she asked, arms folded across her chest.

He scoffed. "You could say that." Jim sighed before continuing. "Karen and I got in a fight after work."

"Which explains your current state."

"No, I was drinking long before she came home. Communication takes a lot out of me apparently."

"I don't seem to remember you being up there," Pam said with irritation, taking a seat at the edge of her coffee table.

"Oh, I was up there. Jim Halpert as 'The Cup,'" he said, spreading his hands out in the air, framing an imaginary marquee.

Pam had had enough. "Alright, listen cup boy. Today was extremely hard for me too. I was embarrassed and made a joke of in front of everyone, including your girlfriend no less. So I would sincerely appreciate it if instead of coming up with a yet another way to bring up the cup, you could just tell me why you're here." She was slightly out of breath after she finished her rant, and swallowed hard to keep from becoming too emotional.

Jim's eyes widened at her scolding, and sat upright to face her.

"I'm sorry…humor, defense-mechanism, it's a habit." He took her hand in his and she jumped a bit and the unexpected contact.

"What do you want to do?" He asked quietly, keeping steady eye contact with her, stroking the top of her hand with his thumb.

Pam bit her lip, searching for the right words, the right answer. She gave a sigh before responding.

"I want to talk."

And so they did, well into the night until sleep found them, resting their heads on each other and fingers held in a loose embrace.

xxx

Pam awoke with a stiff pain in her neck, and gingerly lifted it to stretch the muscles out. She felt something land on her shoulder with a thud, and turned with half-opened eyes to find Jim leaning awkwardly on her arm, stirring awake in the uncomfortable position he found himself in.

He turned over on his back and plopped his head in Pam's lap, staring up at her with tired eyes and a crooked smile.

"Morn—okay, it hurts to talk." He rubbed his temples to ease what Pam assumed was a bit of a hangover.

"Serves you right for endangering your life and those around you."

"Love made me sober, Pam," he stated dramatically, his voice low and hoarse with fatigue. Pam glanced at her watch and groaned.

"We have work."

"We're taking a sick day."

"Sorry, but unlike some Assistant Regional Managers who have increased pay, I need the money."

"Assistant _to_ the Regional Manager," Jim held up his finger in a correcting way, still grinning broadly.

"Thank you, Dwight," Pam laughed and nudged Jim off of her lap. He stood up slowly, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a large yawn.

"I don't know about you, but I think our communication skills are just fine. We should be teaching that seminar."

Pam smiled and gave a small laugh as she thought back on the previous night. "True. Though maybe next time we communicate minus the entire six pack you consumed."

"Are you kidding? Alcohol is what makes people honest. If anything, we have the next seminar at Poor Richard's." Jim began to laugh until he saw Pam's face fall.

"Okay—bad idea. We'll have it at Chili's…oh wait," he looked down with mock disapproval.

Her face brightened and she hit him playfully on the arm. "I hate you."

Jim grabbed his keys off of her coffee table and made his way to her door. Pam opened it for him and leaned her head against the door and he stood lingering in the entrance.

"There's still a lot to do," he said quietly, looking down at this scuffed dress shoes.

Pam merely nodded, rubbing her lips together tightly.

"But at least now we have successfully opened the lines of communication and can properly express ourselves using the key pillars outlined in—"

"Okay okay, enough!" Pam pushed him playfully out the door. He smiled at her, turning toward his car with hesitance. Pam raised her eyebrows questioningly till he finally leaned in and kissed her softly. He kept his forehead pressed to hers, their noses touching and causing both to break out into shy smiles.

"Bye," he whispered.

"Bye."

And with that, he gave her one last wink before heading to his car. Pam closed the door behind him and let out a happy sigh. In a matter of twenty-four hours, her life had gone from bad to worse to now the best she'd felt in months. All thanks to a little honesty.


End file.
